ion, and willing to pay for it, he was
afraid to desert his post. Another hour passed. A couple of seamen came
by his place of concealment, and stepping aboard, went down the foc'sle.
A clock struck eleven, and a few minutes later the light in the cabin
was extinguished.

The boy watched another quarter of an hour and then, the ship being dark
and still, crept noiselessly on board. The sound of deep snoring came
from the cabin, and gaining the wharf again, he set off as hard as he
could run to the _Seamew_.

CHAPTER XIII.

Wilson and the mate returned to the ship laden with their spoils, and
pitching them on board first, descended themselves by a slower but
pleasanter method.

"I expect our chaps are all ashore still," said the mate, looking round.
"Pretty state they'll be in for a start. I suppose the boy's down with
the cap'n."

"Just go down and send him up," said the skipper; "it's rather a delicate
thing to do to give a man a suit of clothes. I don't want anybody
standing round."

"There's no light," said the mate, looking towards the skylight. He went
below and felt his way into the cabin.

"All in the dark?" he said cheerfully.

There was no reply. He fumbled about in the darkness for the matches,
and having obtained them, struck a light and looked round. The cabin was
empty. He opened the door of the state-room and peered in; that too was
empty.

"He must have gone for a walk with the boy," said the skipper uneasily
when he returned with the news.

He took up the parcel again and went below, followed by the mate, and
for some time sat silently smoking.

"Nine o'clock," said the mate at last in consternation as the little
clock tinkled the hour. "That confounded boy's not up to any mischief, I
s'pose? He's been in a devil of a temper the last day or two."

"I don't see what mischief he could do," pondered the other, knitting
his brows.

"Look's to me as if he's spirited him away," continued the mate. "I'll
go ashore and have a look round and see whether I can see anything of
them."

He took his cap from the locker and went. An hour elapsed, and the
skipper, a prey to great anxiety, went up on deck.

The shops had closed, and with the exception of the street lamps,
the town was in darkness and the streets silent, except for a chance
wayfarer. Two or three seamen came up the quay and went aboard the
steamer in the next berth. A woman came slowly along, peering in an
uncertain fashion at